


Eight Knots East

by HOOTwheelz



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, Flashbacks, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Imbalance, Splatfest (Splatoon)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22529026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HOOTwheelz/pseuds/HOOTwheelz
Summary: Thanks to the flourishing community of competitive ranked battles, multiple high-level tournaments have formed together and created the Eight Knot Knockout League. Big names in the ranked battle community are only topped by the huge prize pools. Tessa Luvik isn't a fan of 8KKL as much as she is a fan of Ingrid Spoondrift, one of the world's best inkbrush handlers in the world. When the two finally cross paths, Tessa leaves a somewhat disappointing impression. Even so, it's enough to ignite a spark between the two squids. As Ingrid and Tessa get intimate in Ingrid's room, Tessa finds herself struggling to stay in the moment. The pair will have to work with each other to untangle Tessa's knots while trying to keep their relationship a secret for the sake of Ingrid's 8KKL team. Can they make things work, or will they crack under the pressure?[Chapter 2 added 04-Feb-2020]
Relationships: Agent 3 (Splatoon)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. The Boundary of Ocean Tides

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS
> 
> Note from the author:  
> This story contains depictions of panic attacks during sexual situations. I've done my best to try and display this situation in a safe environment. However, this is a fictional setting, and more complicated situations may arise in real life. Practicing enthusiastic consent in our sex lives will keep us safe from situations where we may be unable to verbally communicate. I've been in many sexual situations where I've been unable to speak due to selective mutism, and being unable to protest against further advances is terrifying. Enthusiastic consent can help ensure even people like me have a chance to slow things down to our tempo. If you'd like to talk to me and learn more about it, please don't hesitate to get in touch with me on Twitter @Hootwheelz.

She takes slow, deep breaths in her slumber as I lay next to her. The moonlight split by the venetian blinds on her bedroom windows draws lines across her tired, peaceful face. I lay next to her, admiring the shape of her features in the gentle blue shadow of night. I gently trace my finger from her hips to her neck and she shudders, releasing a sharp sigh from the sensation of my touch. I still can't believe this isn't a dream even though it feels too good to be true. This is really happening! I'm in her bedroom, hearing her restful breath as her alarm clock ticks past midnight.

\-----

This all started about two months ago during a Splatfest. I hadn't been to a Splatfest for a while because I had other commitments, but Callie had just been found with the big zapfish returning not long after. It was going to be an especially jovial festival, and I couldn't ignore the good time that was bound to happen after such a wave of good news.

Participants were asked which Christmas gift they preferred, and I chose socks over sweaters.

"What the fuck, Tess? I thought we were gonna pick the same teams this time," my friend Maxine protests.

"Yeah Tess, socks? Really? Like, how can you possibly betray us like this," says Kenny.

I whine to my companions. "I thought we were picking socks! Why did you guys pick sweaters?" We argued back and forth for maybe five minutes. They picked sweaters because ugly, itchy Christmas sweaters were somehow in fashion while socks remained hidden in their shoes. It's an understandable argument to me, but they don't live on their own like I do. I tried to explain myself by telling the story of my thousands of missing pairs of socks, but while I used the story to argue that mixing and matching socks is cute they managed to twist the story.

"Sure, you can mix and match socks if you lose them," Maxine said, "but have you ever lost a Christmas sweater?"

"Yeah," I defeatedly replied, "I guess you're right." 

Maxine and Kenny go way back to elementary school. The two of them fantasized about becoming professional ink battlers. Inklings who play competitively in televised events, winning gigantic prizes and getting huge sponsorships are some of the most famous inklings in Inkopolis. Maxine and Kenny loved daydreaming about what it would be like, but they never really put the effort into it. They were still a lot better at ink battles than I was; I love a good Turf War as much as anyone else does, but I don't really understand why people take competitive play so seriously. I'd watch the televised tournaments and championships if they were on TV, but the broadcasts always feel overblown and exaggerated. I don't typically judge the results of a match the same way those events do, anyways; I'd rather judge the winners and losers based on how impressed I was by either team.

One particular player is my favorite. She was methodical, reacted quickly in any situation and ended up being the most important person on her team in almost every match. After every single championship she took part in, people would immediately cut up all the segments in the televised events where her gameplay was featured and created montages of her work. It was like watching a genius create a living masterpiece at times; her skill with an ink brush was unmatched. What impressed me the most, however, was her ability to play mindgames on her opponents. She loved faking her opponents out, leading them directly into situations where she had the advantage. She was graceful like a swan yet powerful as an ox - you really have to be fit if you're gonna be flinging an oversized paint brush around for five minutes or less.

Since I was competing lone wolf I was automatically paired up with random teammates each match. I had a few wins and losses under my belt, but I wasn't really counting; I just wanted to have fun. On my final match of the night I walked up to the spawn point with three other strangers. We shook hands and exchanged small talk while we waited for the other team to take their place. I introduced myself as Tess, and everyone else introduced themselves after me. Before long, four inklings walked onto their spawn point.

"Oh no, those guys are S Class! We'll never stand a chance," one of my team mates shouted. I squinted at the opposing team and managed to make out the shiny, high-tier gear in the distance. Our team wasn't anywhere close to that fresh, but I didn't think much of it at the time. It was just a Splatfest anyways, the stakes aren't nearly as high here as they are in competitive. Who knows, maybe they'd have their guard down and underestimate us?

After about a minute of play, I realized I was being foolish. We were getting demolished by the enemy squids as they effortlessly flooded the map with ink. At times I felt like they were toying with my team, baiting each of us into separating from the group and picking us off one by one. With thirty seconds left in the match I was inking the ground with my paint roller until a girl from the enemy team rounded a corner. My eyes fell on her face and I was immediately captivated; her long, symmetrical, tummy length bangs swayed to either side of her face as she walked. Her black mask was unique, a mask I've only seen once before. Her eyes were squinted in deep concentration, looking past me as if I wasn't even present. If she was any other girl I'd have no way of identifying her due to the heavy concealment of her face, but her gear was a dead giveaway. Ingrid, my favorite battler on the professional circuit, was staring me down.

Ingrid began her backswing by dragging the tip along the ground. It was a small but extremely economical adjustment to a brush flick that allowed her to spread ink on the ground even when she was winding up for an attack. Rather than using a basic back-and-forth swing like a golfer would, Ingrid draws a tiny arc at the top of her swing. This means she can redirect the brush's momentum rather than killing it altogether before the foreswing. She slams her right foot down, twists her hips unleashes her swing like a catapult. Her technique lets her use the full velocity of the inkbrush without hyper-extending any of her muscles. She was letting her center of gravity do almost all the work, exactly like she did in the compilations I've obsessively watched. Her ink shimmered in the light as it flew toward me and I froze in place, completely unable to comprehend the fame and glory contained within this person now just ten yards away from me.

I was covered in ink. It stung, more than usual. The sheer velocity of the ink she flicked at me was enough to bruise the exposed skin on my arms and legs. I knew what was coming next, but it didn't matter because I was too starstruck to move. She throttled an ink balloon at me but I didn't struggle. It exploded, and I returned back to base.

She was already inking everything up on our side of the arena with her brush by the time I re-entered the battle. Her back was turned to me as she covered the colourful trails left behind by my teammates, but with less than ten seconds left in the match it was time for me to get my revenge. I dunked myself into the ink and swam up to her, my gear giving me the edge of complete silence while swimming. I swim up just behind her and jump out, taking her completely by surprise. Even so, I only manage to land a single splash of ink. Without even a flinch she coils her entire body up then unloads her entire muscular system into a huge jump, about fifteen feet into the air. She grabs her ink tank as she flies skyward, places the ink tank below her feet at the apex of her jump, then thrusts the ink tank down to the ground in a gigantic explosion.

By the time I returned to base again, the massacre was over.

\-----

Ingrid stirs in her sleep next to me. Her arm reaches around my waist and pulls me closer. She mumbles gibberish in her sleep, sighs, then rests her head on my breasts. I can feel my cheeks heat up as they turn red. Tingles crawl up my spine as her grip tightens on my side. She digs her nails into my skin as if I might float away if she loosened her grip even a little bit. I wasn't about to go anywhere, but if I tried she would likely draw blood. I wipe the sweat from my forehead as my heart bangs rhythmically in my chest, each beat feeling like a gunshot.

\-----

Just after the Splatfest match, we waited for our results. My teammates pestered the other team for tips and tricks with stars in their eyes, and the S Class battlers handed down vague cliches about practice and dedication. Ingrid remained quiet; she was known to stay silent almost all the time unless she was required to speak. In fact, out of all the compilations and video clips I've seen, I don't think I've ever heard her voice.

I decided to walk up to her. I intended to say, "Hey, I think you were really good! Thank you for the great match," but that's when I noticed her fierce red eyes and unenthused posture. She looked like the kind of girl who'd beat me up for my lunch money and threaten to do worse if I snitched. The mere thought of approaching her began to feel like a mistake to me. Each step I took sounded louder in my ears than a crack of thunder, and it was only overshadowed by my pounding heart. We locked eyes as I walked forward. She shuffled her body to face me. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the ground. She was leaning heavily on one foot, hardly feeling the need to be formal with a lowly casual battler like me. I stopped in front of her and attempted to speak but my words spilled out of my mouth like stew through a strainer. She gave me a puzzled look and sighed.

"I'm gonna give you one more try, kid. Don't hurt yourself." She sounded like she was tired. I took a deep breath and tried again.

"Y-you were- um, uhhh... you did the thing, then I tried to do the thing, and you thinged me before I thinged you, and you sure thinged me good. You did the thing good." I nervously chuckled, but I wanted nothing more than to implode and disappear forever. I felt like I could crumple up like a piece of paper and die. She eyed me up as if looking for a nametag on a collar to take me back to my parents.

"I get what you're saying. Thanks, kid."

With that, she left with her team. They already knew who won, they didn't need the score. My team covered 8% of the ground while the professional battlers covered the rest. It was an apocalyptic, one-sided battle. Before long the Splatfest celebration was over, and the results for the entire event were ready to be tallied. I met up with my friends to share our battle stories.

I find them sitting at a table looking at their phones, waiting for the announcement of the winning team as music plays from the empty stage above the battle arena entrance.

"Kenny! Maxine! How did you guys do?" They shrug their shoulders.

"We did fine, I guess. We won some, we lost some. That's kinda how it goes," Max said. "How about you, Tess?"

My eyes lit up. "Y'all aren't gonna believe this, but I played a match against Ingrid."

Kenny and Maxine look at each other, then back to me. Kenny breaks the awkward silence. "Yeah, right. Ingrid? At a Splatfest? This is beneath her."

"No, really! I did! She splatted me a couple times, I failed miserably when I tried to compliment her and she brushed me off. Honestly I was kinda worried she was gonna give me a wedgie, so it could've been worse!" I chuckle as my cheeks turn red. I could've done better if I wasn't so starstruck.

Maxine shoots me a mischievous look. "Something tells me you'd love getting a wedgie from her," she says, raising her eyebrows. I scoff and try to avoid thinking about it.

Before long the results are announced; It's a close call, but the Sweaters just barely beat out the Socks. Kenny, Maxine and I decided to stay a little while longer for the end of the festivities and walked back home with each other.

\-----

I feel her lips press against mine. Her nails dig into my skin. A moan trickles out of me, and my sides tingle as her fingers drift up from my hip to my arm and down to my hand. She interlocks her hands with mine. Her palms are warm and dry, but mine are hot and clammy. She smiles at me, and I laugh in response. It's still so hard to believe where I am.

All at once she thrusts herself on top of me, forcing me to my back as she pins me down. I yelp as she swings her legs on either side of me. I playfully try to wriggle free by rotating my wrists, but she simply adjusts herself and grabs me by my forearms before I can react. I struggle against her but I can barely budge under her tight grasp. She digs her face into my neck - kissing, licking and nibbling as if marking me as her property. I'm completely at her mercy, and I give myself to her. In this moment I feel like her toy, exactly as I always imagined. Her kisses and nibbles intensify to suckles and bites, leaving marks and drawing blood from me. I yelp and squirm as electricity flickers through my spine and she quickly places her hand over my mouth to silence me. Her face hovers above mine with blood gently staining on her lips.

"You'd better be quiet now, Tess, or so help me I will make you wish you kept silent." I nod in complete obedience. It was thoughtful on her part to hush me up, and foolish of me to forget why I had to be quiet. Ingrid lived with her teammates and didn't want their sleep to be interrupted by my squealing.

Her hand slowly uncovers my mouth as her face comes closer to mine. I flinch and squeeze my eyes shut but before I can determine where she's going to bite next, our lips meet. We kiss for what seems like an eternity, but I hang on every second of it. I open my eyes and watch the moonlight dance on her face, traveling across her closed eyelids and updone hair. Her grip on my wrists tightens as our kissing intensifies. Butterflies soar within me as my body fills with sensations I can't describe beyond pure energy. My hands feel cool and tingly as blood struggles to pulse through her grip on my arms, but I don't fight against her.

She breaks the kiss and looks deep into my eyes. The look on her face is a look I can't get out of my head; desire is spelled out on her heavy breathing, lidded eyes and rosy cheeks. She releases the grip on my hands but I lie motionless below her, panting hard as my heart thumps in my chest. She grabs her nightgown from the base of the skirt without breaking eye contact with me. My breathing quickens as my heart jumps to my throat. My brain is traveling at a million lightyears a second, overloaded with the thought of seeing her naked body.

She smirks as she remains still, soaking in the sight of my excitement, her hand still just resting on the edge of her dress.

"You should see the look on your face. You look like a dog after its owner grabs her leash from the closet." She's eating this all up, I think to myself. I lick my lips and try to speak, but I can't even hear myself talk over my pounding heartbeat.

She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Come again, love?" Apparently, she can't hear me over my heartbeat either.

"P-please, I-Ingrid," I quietly whisper under my breath.

"Let me hear how badly you want it." Her ice cold voice sends even more shivers down my spine.

"I want you," I whisper. "I want to see you. I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to taste all of you."

She sighs and covers her face with her hands. "Ugh, you're so incredibly awkward." I wince. I'm still pretty new to dealing with someone as domineering and commanding as Ingrid is, and I thought I was trying my best. Just as I start catastrophizing about ruining this intimate moment, Ingrid pulls me back to reality with a kiss on my forehead. "That's what I love most about you, Tessa. You're painfully adorable."

I try to return her compliments, but she places a finger gently on my lips to silence me before I can form any words. She traces her finger from my lips down to my collarbone. She hooks her finger onto my nightgown and pulls down. Inch by inch the collar of my nightgown travels lower and lower until she exposes my breasts to her. My breath is sharp and shallow as she kneels over me with total domination over me. She grabs the bottom of my nighties and nods her head, wordlessly commanding me to help her disrobe me. I comply, letting her slip the nightgown over my head and off my naked body. She throws my nightwear aside as her eyes scan me entirely as if I was a painting hung on the wall. I wait for her to take her own pyjamas off but she just stares at me.

"Ingrid? Is everything okay?" I ask in a gentle whisper.

"Sorry, I just..." She sighs loudly, her eyes fluttering. She fans herself playfully. "I was admiring this beautiful girl I have below me, you know," she continues. "You're just so perfect, I hope you know that. You're like living art I can kiss and experience whenever I see you." She grabs her nightgown and slowly pulls it up off her body, revealing a muscular figure. Her abs looks like they were chiseled out of marble. It's not surprising for an inkling who takes ink battles seriously, but the thought of a girl like her with a body like that trapping me between her thighs is beyond my comprehension. Her breasts are small and her nipples are perky. Some girls I know would feel shame after revealing their body like this, but Ingrid was expressing nothing but pure confidence in her body posture and her smile.

"Take a picture, pet," she quips as she strikes a pose to show off her figure. "It might last longer."

She flashes a pose with a smirk. There are stars in my eyes and heartbeats in my throat; this girl has the most stunningly perfect figure I've laid eyes on. I can't help but imagine how jealous every boy and girl would be to see me holding hands with a living statue, let alone seeing her body shimmer in the moon. I trace my fingers over her abs, feeling the canyons and mountains of her muscles. I place my hands on her hips and she lowers her body onto mine. Her warm body tickles my skin as her breasts press into mine, and our warm lips meet again.

I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her body tightly against mine. She invites my tight grip with a gentle moan. She moves her body slowly, our breasts rubbing together as our tongues dance in each others' mouths. My hands wander down her back, following her spine down to her tailbone. I can feel the goosebumps form on her skin as I tickle her back. She smiles through our kisses and my hands continue their journey to her firm bottom. I squeeze her gently in my hands and the skin barely even gives way under my grip, the toned muscle refusing to relax even during such a personal moment.

But something's wrong. My lungs feel like they're wrapped up in razor wire. Every breath is more shallow than the last. My head starts spinning and I start feeling myself slipping. I've only felt like this once before, but I didn't know what made it happen or how to deal with it. I try my best to fight through it but my face gives my struggles away, as Ingrid's face transitions from infatuation to concern. I try to speak, but my mouth is dry. I choke on my words, and fall into a coughing fit. Ingrid grabs my hand and pulls, helping me sit up as I cough and gasp for air. She gently rubs my back with an open palm until my coughing subsides.

"Try that again honey," Ingrid softly whispers, "Don't hurt yourself."

I take a deep breath, but I'm still a bundle of nerves. I stutter and stammer over my words. "I uh, I'm... I think we've gone as far as I can go tonight, Ingrid. I uh, I just thi-"

"Don't make excuses," she interrupts. "It's fine. If you don't wanna go further, neither do I."

We lock eyes and stay motionless for a moment. Maybe it's just the thought that this moment is too perfect for me, or perhaps it's just the intensity of emotions flooding my brain that's overloading me. My eyes started to water. I felt lost in my head, as if I was running on pure instinct. In the moment I didn't know how to comprehend those feelings, and that spooked me. Ingrid's eyes portray a peaceful acceptance though, and it makes me feel a little bit better about my sudden prudishness. There's no harm or ill-intent at all in her face. I can't help but feel like I've done something wrong.

Ingrid silently dismounts me and pulls me down to the pillow with her, and we lay there silently as we gaze into each others' eyes, our arms wrapped around each other.

"You know," Ingrid begins, "I didn't think I'd see much of you after that Splatfest match. I assumed you were just another flustered fan trying to make an impression. I'm probably right about that assumption, but I couldn't get your face out of my head." She plants a quick peck on my forehead and sighs. She lays on her back and stares at the ceiling, and I join her. The branches of the nearby spruces sway in the gentle wind, casting shadows throughout the room. I think about what Ingrid does when she's feeling lonely. Does she simply think about things while she lays back on her bed? What would she think about? Does she get mesmerized by the dancing leaves on the walls, in the same way I'm mesmerized by her?

"I hope I'm good enough for you." She breaks my thoughts. "I know we won't be able to spend a lot of time together, but it'll make the moments like these feel so much sweeter to me. I hope you understand that, because as much as I..."

She hesitates.

"...As much as I appreciate our time together, the team needs me. That said, though, I really want to keep seeing you."

I say nothing. Seeing her again was never a thought in my mind; I was sure I ruined the nature of our interactions with my sudden panic attack.

"Maybe you can watch me train when you've got some free time. I know we won't really be able to interact, but it'll be nice to see you on the sidelines."

I nod. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

We kiss each other goodnight. She rolls onto her side, her back now facing me. She grabs my arm and pulls me closer to her, and I obediently turn towards the wall and press myself against her body. It's not long until we both drift into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER ONE CHANGE NOTES:  
> 03-Feb-2020: Kenny was described as a mediator or moderator in an argument where he'd already taken aside. Tessa now admits defeat, rather than Kenny extending an olive branch to the side of the argument he already agreed with. Original line: "Yeah," Kenny replied, "I guess you're right." Kenny usually plays the mediator in an argument like this, but even I couldn't deny Maxine's trump card." New line: "Yeah," I defeatedly replied, "I guess you're right."


	2. The Streets of Cloudy Vortices

I wave a towel in front of the smoke alarm, its beeping echoes off the walls and hardwood floors. The smell of charred seafood permeates the apartment. I've cracked the window open to let the smoke out and taken the pan full of burned strips of fish and cubed shrimp chunks off the range, but the alarm keeps beeping. I nervously continue to swipe my towel at the annoying white disc on the wall when a tap on my shoulder makes me jump. I spin around and see Ingrid wiping her eyes.

"Sorry, I tried to make you breakfast and kinda failed at it," I said as I smiled nervously at her. The toaster pops in the kitchen, flinging two hockey pucks that use to be bread into the air as if I hadn't been embarrassed enough.

"You really don't have to eat that unless you like your breakfast looking like charcoal," I sighed.

"It's fine. Let me help you this time," she said with a smile. Ingrid grabs my hand, making my heart jump in my chest. She walks me to the kitchen and throws the food into the composter, cleans everything back up and begins to cook silently as I watch on. She turns to me and smiles again, as if to reassure me.

"It's fine. I mean it," she says as she pats my head.

\-----

"You can't just say it was fine without elaborating. You walked up to her, you stumbled over your words, and then what?"

"Yeah, what kind of look did she give you? What was her posture like? Did she read your mind and figure out you have a life-sized cardboard cutout of her sitting in your closet?"

Kenny and Maxine exchange jabs at me as I try to recall every aching detail of my first - and probably only - encounter with Ingrid. They're not just trying to make fun of me, though; I've been having issues with my memory lately. Being forgetful isn't usually in my nature, but something changed and I don't know why. Remembering anything before a month ago is difficult for me. I can remember my distant childhood memories, like holding my first inkbrush or winning my first turf war, but I can't remember anything at all from last month. Me and my friends have tried to identify a pattern in the memory loss, but we haven't figured out a cause that fits the problems yet. Maxine thinks it's some form of ADHD, but Kenny thinks it's dissociative amnesia. I've heard rumors that some of the kids coming back from the Salmon Run get a mild case of PTSD as well, but Kenny and Maxine say they haven't gone to the Salmon Run for half a year, and I'd never go without my friends.

"Well? We're waiting," Maxine grumbles impatiently.

"Right, sorry. I walked up, I stuttered, and she says, 'One more time, kiddo. Don't hurt yourself,' and sorta slouches, like this." I stand up, cross my arms, and sink all my weight into my left foot. I tap my right foot, just like she did... I think.

"Going well so far," Kenny sharply retorts. "What happened next?"

"I just kept stuttering, I couldn't say anything of value!" I sit back down, stretch my arms out onto the picnic table and bury my face into my arms. I remember feeling as small as an ant in Ingrid's presence.

"It's okay, she's kind of a big deal. I bet she sees a bunch of people like you. What did she say back," Kenny asks. I lift my head up, resting my chin on the table.

"Uh, I think she said something like, 'Yeah, I get it. Thanks, kid.'"

"Oof, that's rough," Maxine winces.

"Stop cringing at me! it wasn't that bad, right? She could've been mean to me, right?"

"Nah," Kenny interjects, "that's pretty mean." I roll my eyes. I lean back in my chair and look way up at the Great Zapfish wrapped around the tall green Inkopolis Tower. I decide to change the subject.

"So, do we know what happened with the Zapfish? It went missing, didn't it?"

Maxine nods. "The Octarians stole it. The whole city had to run on generators when it got stolen. Your block had no power for a day and a half. Do you remember?" I shake my head.

Kenny puts his hand up to his chin. "Didn't Callie go missing at the same time? People thought she might've stolen it, but I never believed that rumor. I always knew the Octarians just captured her at the same time."

"Maybe she was trying to save the Zapfish and ended up getting taken away with it," I interject. My head is beginning to throb, but I figure it's from the noise in the courtyard. It's a manageable headache.

"Nah, she's a pop idol," says Maxine. "What do you think she is, some kind of secret agent?"

My head explodes with pain. My brain feels like it's trying to escape my skull, humongous pressure throbbing on my temples and clouding my vision. Images flash rapidly into my mind then fade away before I can recognize what my mind is trying to make me see. I start to feel dizzy. All at once I start to feel myself collapse. I nearly fall out of my chair until someone catches me.

"Th-thanks, Maxine, I think I'm getting a headache," I whisper.

"Oh, don't mention it kid."

My heart skips in my chest. I could recognize that voice in the middle of a fireworks display. I look up and see Maxine, still sitting at the other end of the table, looking up at the person holding me up. Kenny and Maxine are both looking up and away from me, staring directly at the person holding me up.

They're looking at Ingrid.

"Hey," Ingrid says as she points to my friends, "you're with her right? Stay here, keep an eye on her and don't say anything. I'll be right back." I look up at her as she lifts a mask from her chin up to her mouth slips round sunglasses onto her face. She walks into the coffee shop next to us hurriedly as I try to regain my composure. Kenny walks over to me and places the back of his hand on my forehead.

"Tessa, your forehead is burning hot. Are you feeling okay? What happened," he asks urgently.

"I don't know, it happened so fast. I remember feeling scared, and a bunch of images flashed through my head." I try my best to take deep breaths and fight against the pain in my chest.

"Kenny, maybe we should just let her breathe for a while," Maxine says. I nod my head. My brain is still pounding heavily, the last thing on my mind is trying to figure out what just happened to me. As Kenny sits back down in his chair, Ingrid walks out of the shop with a water bottle.

"Here," she says as she hands me the bottle as well as a box of painkillers. "This stuff should help. I get migraines sometimes between matches, but these help a lot." I nod silently, shovel a couple capsules into my mouth and swallow it down with the water. Ingrid pulls a chair away from a nearby table and sits down next to me, with her hand gently rubbing my back.

"I don't think I ever got your name. It's not Kid, is it? That'd be a goofy coincidence," Ingrid says. Kenny and Maxine stay silent, as if refusing to speak until spoken to, but I can't think straight enough to reply. I make eye contact with Maxine then point at Ingrid. She knows what to do.

"S-sorry, ma'am, she has issues speaking sometimes. Her name is Tessa Luvik." Maxine is sat rigidly in her chair as if moving a muscle could cause a natural disaster. Kenny isn't any different.

"Luvik. I like that last name, it sounds practically royal. What about you two," Ingrid asks.

"Oh," Kenny replies stiffly. "I'm Kenny Orchard, and that's Maxine Erie." Maxine nods, confirming her name is correct.

"Huh, neat. Erie, like the big lake from ancient history. I like that name, too. Do you know where Tessa lives? We should probably walk her back, she's not in any condition to stay out in the sun like this." My best friends immediately stand up and sling their backpacks on, while Ingrid picks mine up off the back of my chair and carries it herself. Before I can stand up she cradles my legs and my back, lifts me off the chair and carries me. I wrap my arm around her to help keep my weight even around her body, but my head still throbs.

\-----

I sit down at the table as Ingrid places a plate in front of me, full of the edible versions of the food I managed to turn to ash. She even poured me a glass of orange juice, and placed perfectly buttered toast on the side.

"Strips and bits, table d'hôte," she says with a strange accent I've never heard before. I cock my head to the side and squint at her.

"Uh, don't ask what that means. I heard it in history class and thought it made me sound smart." She smiles at me. I take my first bite as Ingrid looks on for my approval. I give her a thumbs up and dive in; everything tastes amazing. I always thought the best part of breakfast was the taste of the ocean, but all the extra stuff Ingrid dressed it up with makes the food taste unlike anything I've ever eaten. It's scrumptious.

"Ingrid," shouts a voice from down the hall, making my hair stand on end. I forgot Ingrid's teammates were still here. "Who's that?"

"Oh, that's Tessa. She'll be going soon, Jackson. Sorry." A man walks in and stands next to Ingrid. I thought Ingrid was already pretty tall, but Jackson easily towers over her. She looks up at him. "It won't happen again, I promise." This is the first time I've ever seen her look like this. She looks... defeated.

"It better not," he replies with a sharp grunt. He turns to me and I freeze, with a mouth still full of food.

"Tessa, was it? My name's Jackson. I'm Ingrid's boss. When did you meet Ingrid?"

I sit there, motionless. An ideal version of myself would've just kept chewing to savour the delicious breakfast Ingrid cooked for me and use that as an excuse to not answer, but I'm just a simple little girl in the presence of a towering, dominating presence.

"U-uh, s-sir, well, uh....." I stutter as chunks of munched food fly out of my mouth and skid across the counter in front of him. 

Carp. I really didn't want this to happen now. Some days I wish I could just overpower this dumb roadblock I keep crashing into, but nothing I've done has ever worked. Ingrid pokes me in the shoulder and locks eyes with me. She nods her head towards Jackson, as if I hadn't already recognized that I needed to answer him. I want to tell her so badly that I can't. Jackson taps his foot on the floor as he waits, but he won't be getting an answer from me as long as he's in the room. He scoffs.

"Birds of a feather. No wonder she took a liking to you." He turns to Ingrid.

"Sorry sir," she says nervously, "we met a couple weeks ago. She helped me find my way back after I got lost, remember?" That's a bit misleading; she and I hung out for a while, and she lost track of time. I hope her boss isn't one of those super controlling coaches I keep hearing rumors about.

"Alright, fine. This is the only time this happens," he says with a stern tone. "The season is starting back up next week. We need to be focused. Got it?" Ingrid nods. With that, Jackson seems satisfied. He takes another glance at me, looking me up and down as if trying to judge my character from my appearance, and before walking off he squints at me as if trying to burn a hole through my forehead. I look down and notice I'm wearing Ingrid's pajama pants. Ingrid looks down the hall until Jackson enters his room and shuts the door behind him.

"Don't worry, Tess. He's always like that, you just get used to it. Or, like, I've gotten used to it." Ingrid nervously fidgets with a ring on her thumb as she looks down at the floor.

"I hate that it has to be like this," she continues, "I want to help you. I know what it's like to feel like you've forgotten who you are. I've been doing this tournament stuff for so long that I can't even remember what I used to do before I got scouted and picked up by Nautica. If it wasn't for Jackson, I'd probably be back with my mom and dad." She sighs heavily, her entire body sinking as if someone was trying to pull her down to the floor.

"Sorry," Ingrid says, breaking the silence. "I didn't wanna end today like this." She walks across the room to the huge panoramic window overlooking the Great Zapfish. For a moment, I completely forget about absolutely everything. All I see is her beautiful hair swaying in the gentle breeze blowing in, her soft skin glowing in the sun. Shadows caress her muscular biceps and beautiful rainbow reflections cast off of the metallic decorations on a nearby table, colourfully licking her cheek. She looks back at me and smiles, and my heart stops. I never want this moment to end.

\-----

My headache finally begins to fade as the Inkopolis Tower fades from view, but as my thoughts become clearer, I begin to realize the circumstances I've found myself in. I look down at myself and see muscular arms surrounding me, carrying me effortlessly. I hear my carrier's steady but labored breathing and her feet gently clapping the sidewalk. Cars zoom by, seemingly unaware of the crisis I found myself in just moments ago. Maxine and Kenny talk among themselves in hushed voices as they walk a few feet ahead of me. I rub my eyes and wipe away tears I never noticed had fallen across my cheeks.

"Hey," Ingrid whispers, "how are you feeling?" I keep my head buried in my hands. I can't process any of this, it's all just too much. I nearly passed out, and my idol is carrying me back to my house just so I don't have to walk. None of this is real, it _can't_ be real.

"It's fine, you don't have to answer me right now. I'm just glad you aren't dying," she chuckles. I look up at her through a crack in my fingers. Her smile is soft, genuine and kind. Her eyes focused forward on my friends leading her. Her cute little nose gently flares out as she breathes in, and her lips purse as she exhales.

"Anyway, it's rude for me to expect you to know my name, so let me introduce myself and make things less awkward. My name's Ingrid Spoondrift, I'm nineteen and I never fucking learned how to read." I giggle at the absurdity of a professional ink battler never learning how to read. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a joke, though; she's actually eighteen.

"Well, I'm Tessa Luvik, I'm nineteen, and I think your double juke splashdown at Round 2 of last season's 8KKL was misjudged." She raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, you fancy yourself a critic now, do you?" Ingrid's arm, wrapped tightly around my back, drops altitude suddenly. It forces a small yelp from me. Ingrid giggles as I cover my face in my hands. Kenny turns around.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Ingrid replies through gentle laughter.

For a few minutes we go silent, letting the city traffic rush to their homes after work lets out as birds fly overhead. Clouds scarcely scatter the sky as the cool, gentle wind brushes against our bodies. I have more than enough energy to walk on my own, but I don't dare ask Ingrid to put me down. I try to think about what I saw back at the coffee shop. I saw an octoling staring at me with a horrified look on her face. What did it mean? Was I involved with stealing the Great Zapfish, or did I help save it? I tried harder to remember more, but my headache slowly trickles back. I really need to know what happened last month.

"This is it," Maxine says. "This is Tessa's house. Don't like, dox her or anything," she says, perhaps a bit too earnestly.

"I wouldn't think of it. If any weirdos with cameras come around, I'll make sure they get gone and stay gone." Ingrid gently releases her grip on my legs, letting me stand on my own again. I stumble a bit, partially due to my clumsiness but mostly because my body is still a bit weak.

"Tessa, Maxine, Kenny, it was nice meeting you all, but I gotta get going," Ingrid shouts as she runs in the direction we came from. "Tessa, don't start thinking you can summon me with a migraine!"

"I wouldn't think of it," I yell back. I give my friends a hug and say goodbye, then walk into my house. I dig my hands into my pockets to empty them, and notice a small folded piece of paper in my left pocket. I unfold it to reveal a phone number and a heart drawn below it.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS
> 
> Note from the author:  
> Thank you for reading my story. I'm currently drafting the next chapter of this story, which should start diving into the reason why Tessa is struggling as much as she is as well as introducing the rest of the Nautica team. This chapter as well as all future chapters are subject to rewrites as I begin to flesh the story out more and more. I hope you follow this story along as I write it. Exploring these difficult situations helps me confront my own experiences in a safe environment, and if reading this story gives you the same closure writing this story is giving me then I've done what I've set out to do. Thank you again!


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